


Speak with Animals

by Clifford2000



Series: Caleb Widogast Gets a Heart [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Adorable Jester Lavorre, Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, F/M, Jester Lavorre & Caleb Widogast Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clifford2000/pseuds/Clifford2000
Summary: Caleb has been spending his nights doing spell research instead of sleeping. Jester seems sad. Frumpkin is a traitorous traitor cat.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Series: Caleb Widogast Gets a Heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937308
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	Speak with Animals

**Author's Note:**

> Hey.  
> This is the sequel to Ritual Caster (Wizard) but can be read independently. This was meant to be much shorter but then the one week hiatus happened. I'm enjoying this, maybe a bit too much.

It was four in the morning and, as had been the case since the Mighty Nein’s return to Zadash, Caleb Widogast found himself sitting alone in The Leaky Tap tavern slowly losing his mind. 

It was the heart, that damned contraption, that puzzling object nagging at the edge of Caleb’s mind whenever he found himself without anything else to do. Gods he hated it, but at the same time he loved the challenge. Sprawled before him were parchments covered in slightly different but all usable variations of the Identify spell; some had been purchased from The Invulnerable Vagrant but the vast majority had been invented by his own obsessive mind. He was certain that, given a few more days, he would crack the formula, finally discovering what exactly was so important about that piece of arcane scrap metal. 

Maybe it was a safe holding ancient secrets, or a magical power source forgotten since the age of arcanum. Or maybe it was just a metal heart enchanted to be impervious to identification. If it was the former then a whole plane of possibilities could open for the Nein, but if the latter then only one question remained: Why? 

When he hears the bottle smash Caleb begins to cast disintegrate. 

Looking towards the source of this disturbance Caleb could see a certain blue tiefling, one who had unwittingly nearly became a pile of dust, quickly forcing his component pouch back into his pocket. Too close dummkopf, twice you’ve nearly killed that one with the same spell. Aside from internal chastisements, of which he was used to, his head was filled with new sensations of anxiety and paranoid nerves. 

This heart had gotten him on edge, and he still wasn’t sure why. Seemingly unaware of how close she had come to obliteration, or perhaps not caring, Jester crept towards the wizard whilst trying to shout very quietly. 

“Super sorry Cayleb! I didn’t realise you were awake, and Sprinkle was thirsty so I decided to get him some milk, but I guess because it's so cold the bottle must have gotten a little bit icy and it slipped when I grabbed it, so... you know. Sorry!” 

Jester has always been a hurricane of mayhem, and watching her tiptoeing form Caleb can't help but feel relaxed at her burst of manic energy; it was a refreshing break from the tense silence he had been mulling in for... nine hours and forty-one minutes. And five seconds. Six seconds. Seven seconds. 

“What are you doing down here anyway?” 

Jester finds her way over to the table that Caleb has fashioned into a workspace, eyes curiously sifting over the pages and parchments. He feels tempted to hide his research, but she's already grabbed a collection of sheets before he can clear them up, her eyes scrutinising arcane runes without understanding. In fairness some of the sheets were beyond even his learning. Taking the pages from her hand he pairs his answer with a half-hearted smile. 

“Oh, you know, the usual. Slamming my head against a door until it opens.” 

The look Jester flashes his way makes Caleb immediately regret the joke. It was her eyes, usually bright and full of energy, now dulled and diminished. And it was his fault. She seemed worried, disappointed, and worst of all like she wasn’t surprised. You just can't help yourself. Infecting Jester with his melancholy was the last thing that Caleb had wanted to do. 

“It’s nothing important Liebling, just some outlines and fragments. I’m trying to bypass the lock on a very difficult puzzle...” and then, because he couldn’t resist the chance, Caleb decides to have a little fun. “I don’t wish to bore you with this, you should go back to your ferret.” 

He barely has the restraint to hold back a grin as he watches Jester’s face scrunch in something equivalent to righteous fury, her violet eyes narrow in faux menace and Caleb can see how her lips become a thin blue line. She takes the bait, and he can't help finding it adorable. 

“He’s a weasel Cayleb! Sprinkle. Is. A. Weasel!” 

She’s given up on being quiet, her voice pitching high enough that Caleb feels confident he could describe it as a squeak, and for a second he simply stares at her, how her hands were held firmly to her hips in an attempt to appear stern, and he raises his arms in mock surrender. After a moment of reassuring silence Jester eases into the seat by his side, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing as she does. 

“Your so rude sometimes.” 

They sit together in relative quiet for a while, seventeen minutes and twelve seconds to be exact, Caleb reanalysing his research and correcting mistakes with Jester humming something beautiful by his side, occasionally interrupted by a stifled yawn. It's... nice. More than nice, it's something Caleb has wanted for a while, since he had become Caleb. It’s comfortable. I could spend the rest of my life like this, and it would be a life well lived. The thought doesn’t startle him, although he feels that it should, and he pauses from his work to look towards Jester. 

She’s tapping against the desk, a slow hypnotic rhythm to accompany her humming, and as Caleb finds himself watching her artistic digits play a quiet melody on her invisible piano he recognises the brass band fitting snuggly on her ring finger. The Ring of Animal Influence. Caleb had given her that ring, had wanted to see how she would use it, so why was he sitting here researching identification runes? He had been so distracted, so disconnected trying to identify the mechanical heart, that he hadn’t had the usual time to spend watching the shenanigans of the Mighty Nein. Honestly, he could’ve used the distraction. 

“Jester… ah, that ring seems like, uhm, it looks good on you. Have you had a chance to, ah, take it for a spin so to speak?” 

She doesn’t move from where she is, other than to press her horn even further into his shoulder, but he can tell she’s surprised that he was the one to interrupt the silence. She lets out a breath, it must be cold because he can see the condensation, or maybe that was due to her unique physiology. Caleb’s mind was whispering that something seemed off. 

“Aw man, it's so weird, like understanding Sprinkle, asking him stuff, it's like really, really cool.” 

He was expecting her to be a little more excited, that she would perhaps bolt up and begin a puppet show, but instead she seemed like she was wasn't entirely there. Something was definitely wrong. At a second inspection Caleb could see the way Jester’s tail would keep winding itself around her leg, almost absent-mindedly. Almost. Maybe you aren't the only one in need of a distraction Widogast. Caleb shifts in his seat to get a better look at Jester, his inquisitive stare trying to meet her unusually nervous glances. 

“But?” 

He watches as Jester’s mask slowly crumbles. At first it's just the corners of her smile that downturn, something that hurts him to watch, but then her brow furrows and her eyes droop down to the ground. Sometimes Caleb hates being right. 

“Buutt... also, like, really exhausting. He’s just so grumpy, even more than you Cayleb, like all the time, and I thought maybe that was just the ring, but no, Caduceus tried it on and Sprinkle actually listened to him! It's so unfair Cayleb, he’s meant to be my weasel, but he told me he liked Caduceus more. Well technically he said ‘At least Caduceus doesn’t make me eat sweets’, technically, but I thought he liked pastries Cayleb, but he told me he hates them, so now I'm feeling really sad, and he wasn’t actually thirsty, he’s sleeping with Caduceus tonight, and the milk was for me, but then I saw you were here and I wanted to talk so I dropped the bottle, so it wasn’t actually an accident Cayleb, and I don’t know what to do! Ya know?” 

That was... that was a lot. 

Even for Jester... that was a lot. 

He needed to run back through that rush of dialog, take it piece by piece. She had used the ring, tried to talk with her pet weasel, but it hadn’t gone well. From his few interactions with the rodent it had seemed to share more characteristics with Beauregard than himself, angry and prone to violent outbursts, but under the influence of the ring it had apparently been grumpy. She had compared Caleb to her weasel. He would unpack that later. 

And Caduceus had stolen her pet from her. It was unlikely that things had actually happened as such, Caduceus had likely tried to moderate the conversation, but what mattered was that Jester felt like it had happened. She didn’t appear angry at the firbolg, rather disappointed in herself. That wouldn’t do, not at all. 

“I am certain that your weasel, uh, loves you very much Jester. He must, he has met you after all.” 

Caleb can feel the shrug of her shoulders against his arm, but Jester’s expression remains unchanged. Reassurances weren't what she was after, but still Caleb felt the need to cheer her up. A simple reminder of how caring she could be. 

“Since you found out weasels don’t eat pastries you’ve been very good at taking care of him, feeding him meat and such so you shouldn’t feel too bad Blueberry.” 

A sigh of consideration, the sense of her tail shaking. 

“But he likes Caduceus more. Maybe I should let Sprinkle stay with him.” 

Her voice is hushed, a whisper. Caleb imagines a child, small and blue and locked away from the rest of the world, terrified that she isn't enough. Caleb stiffens 

“Jester, I can say with the uttermost certainty that no man, woman or weasel who has ever had the pleasure of meeting you, thinks of you as less than perfect. Sprinkle loves you.” 

It seems to Caleb that Jester understands the point he is trying to make, at the very least she doesn’t contradict him, and he can see the beginning of a smile cross her face. Progress. 

“Well, as for Caduceus... I think everyone feels comfortable around our large friend, and Sprinkle has been through a lot recently, that might be why he wishes to sleep with him tonight, but I am certain that he would choose you over Mr. Clay.” 

Jester hums in acknowledgment, head still resting comfortably on Caleb’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, that makes sense. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel a little upset about how grumpy he’s being.” Caleb felt her tail swat against his leg in agreement, much like a cat. Her smile became brighter, more genuine, and Caleb could imagine that same brightness heal long forgotten wounds. “Thank you Cayleb, you're like really good at this.” 

He matches her smile for smile, trying to emulate the essence that was Jester. It feels different from his usual dour expression but it doesn’t hurt. Yet. 

“I do own a cat, so it ah, well it kind of comes with the territory.” 

The pair returned to their comfortable silence, Caleb writing out his own notes as Jester snuck dicks onto his sheets. After five minutes Jester jolted up with a sudden and frenzied focus. 

“Wait! Do you think I could talk to Frumpkin? Can I ask him questions?” 

She nearly takes his eye out with how quickly she raises her head, her horn lightly scraping his brow. Caleb misses the feeling of her head on his shoulder immediately. She’s beaming again, a dazzling and intoxicating smile that suits Jester perfectly, and her eyes are so bright with excitement. How in Exandria was he going to break it to her? 

“Well, ah, I am not so certain that, not sure if your ring will work on him. He’s very smart, you know, so I cannot say whether this spell of yours will work.” 

The room becomes deathly silent the instant he’s finished talking, Jester’s smile replaced with an exaggerated scowl. Ja, that tracks. She pokes him pointedly in the chest, the slightest tap nearly sending him across the room. “Are you trying to say that Sprinkle is stoopid Cayleb?” Her voice is low and unsettling, each word punctuated by an additional prod of her finger. “Are you saying my pet is dumb!” 

Caleb scrambles for a response, his brain going completely blank. Did he say that? He didn’t mean to, he was just... trying to explain that Frumpkin wasn’t technically an animal, and so there was a chance that the ring wouldn’t work the way she wanted. But he didn’t say that, he just said that Frumpkin was smart... so he was calling her pet an idiot in comparison. 

“Nein, I just, what I meant to say is that,” He’s flustered, and he knows she’s not serious, but he still feels like apologising. “I’m sorry Jester. I, uh, meine Götter, I’ll summon him now.” 

Caleb snaps his fingers and with a magical flourish he pulls into the arcane void, pulsing a signal to a secreted pocket dimension where his familiar rests. Frumpkin materialises onto the table, eyes narrowed at his master and head tilted in surprise. Jester waves towards the fey feline, the feyline if you will, and her expression returns to one of jubilant excitement. Caleb keeps that moment safely stored within the amber vaults of his keen mind. 

“Go ahead. It might not work but, you know, there is always a chance I could be wrong.” That was especially true when it came to Jester Lavorre. “So, I uh, I believe it is worth giving a shot, Ask away.” 

Jester eagerly takes the ginger Bengal into her arms, excitement radiating from her like a radiant Armour of Agathis. She pats his head delicately and coos into his ears. 

“Hiii Frumpkin!” 

The cat gave a noncommittal blep in response to Jester’s saccharine sweet greeting, provoking an additional minute of Jester awing over him. 

“I’m going to use this absolutely gorgeous ring that your owner gave me to ask you some things, and the best part is that if everything goes well, which of course it will ‘cos this is a great plan, then I can actually understand you. Okay?” 

Frumpkin gave a blank stare towards Jester in response, his tongue still hanging from his mouth. Jester seemed to take that as a yes. 

“All righty then, let's give this a go. Other than Cayleb, am I your favourite member of the Nein?” 

The engravings of the ring seemed to brighten almost unnoticeably, and Caleb suspected that were the room not so dark he would have missed it entirely. Tilting his tiny head towards the left Frumpkin let out a short noise, something between a meow and a sigh. Jester shook her head immediately. 

“Veth! But she’s eaten you like twice, that’s so unfair Frumpy, like come on.” 

Caleb froze in place. She had answered him. Jester appeared to come to the same conclusion not long after because she was suddenly holding Frumpkin at arm's length towards the tavern ceiling. 

“Oh, fuck the Traveller, it works! It works, Cayleb it fucking works, I told you it would work!” 

She’s smiling in a way he isn’t quite used to, but Caleb is too distracted to properly analyse why. The spell apparently worked. Once again Jester Lavorre had shattered his understanding of the world. This time it had been the laws of the arcane. He really shouldn’t have been surprised. The tails of the pair seemed to twitch in unison, one from the surprise of the spell working and the other from the discomfort of a loud voice so close to its fine-tuned ears. 

“But seriously Frumpkin, I must be pretty close behind Veth, especially after all the scratches and treats I give you.” 

So that was why his familiar had been so sticky last month. Another mystery solved, with his favourite tiefling the culprit. 

“Ja, about giving him treats-” 

“Okay, next question! Do you ever have to poop?” 

Frumpkin rewarded that question with a scowl that had otherwise been reserved for Caleb. Caleb suddenly remembered why he had wanted Jester to have the ring, unfortunately as he was now a victim of such a circumstance it immediately filled him with regret. 

“I should have given that ring to Caduceus.” 

Jester shot a pair of sparkly daggers towards the wizard with her eyes before returning her attention to the cat in her arms. 

“Quiet Cayleb, I only have like a few minutes of this thing left. Go on Frumpkin, you can tell me if you poop, don’t be shy.” 

Frumpkin said meow and Jester nodded her head in understanding. This situation was getting too bizarre even for the usual hijinks of the Mighty Nein. 

“I guess that makes sense, can't poop if you don’t eat. Last question Frumpkin, then I’ll let you get back to your master…” Caleb watches as Jester closes her eyes in thought, gaze drawn towards her delicate lashes, his breath seizing at how they flutter so prettily. He shouldn’t stare so obviously; he has more self-control than that. At least when it doesn’t concern Jester. The cluster of freckles paint across her skin like constellations on a priceless canvas. He’s staring again, but considering his only witness is a cat giving him a judgmental glare Caleb feels secure. 

Caleb stops his obsessive inspection when his eyes rest on her pert mouth, currently parted just enough for a fang to nibble against her lower lip. Forget her axe, forget her vast array of spells, those lips were Jester’s greatest weapon; as sweet and innocent as a cherubim one second before shifting into the mischievous smirk of a devil the next. He so distracted by those lips that he nearly forgets to mask his utter adoration before she opens her eyes, so immersed in her perfection that he nearly doesn’t catch what she says, 

“Is Cayleb secretly in love with me?” 

Scheiße. 

Caleb refuses to allow anything that could pass for emotion cross his face, it’s a skill he has extensively practiced since his tutelage in Rexxentrum, and he tries to hide the terror that he is feeling, the shock, the joy, because that question was so very Jester. He nearly breaks when she opens her eyes, soft and faintly shimmering, and he meets her gaze. Frumpkin chitters an answer, his own eyes remaining steadfast staring at Caleb. Jester squeals in delight. 

“Really! Has he, like, told you or are you just guessing here Frumpy?” 

Traitor. The thought leaves wordlessly, sent directly to his familiar via their telepathic link. Frumpkin just grins at him, fucking grins at him, before mewling towards Jester who just holds him a little closer with a conspirator grin. He should have seen this coming, he really should have, he was always so prepared, so paranoid, and despite his impassive mask holding under the cleric’s penetrating gaze Caleb can feel the flush creeping up from his neck. The two of them are grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats. 

“Oh my god, that is so cool. Anyone else or is it just little ol’ me?” 

Tell her you were joking, do that for me and I’ll never turn you into an octopus again. His treacherous feline nuzzles into her pointed ear, purring away his master's secrets, and Jester wiggles her eyebrows towards an increasingly flustered Caleb. 

“Nice.” 

He is certain the flush has reached his ears; he can see the way she glances towards them. Neither react when a bottle of ink is knocked over by Frumpkin’s tail, the loose pages surrounding it absorbing the black wetness. Caleb is sure he’s going to break, that he’ll fumble an apology, run to his room and hide- 

Jester lets loose a giggle, which falls into a snicker, which becomes a snort, and then she's just sitting beside him laughing her ass off. Wiping away at her eyes from laughing too much Jester sets Caleb’s cat onto the inky table, mirth obvious in her face. Frumpkin trots towards Caleb, staining his research with inky pawprints as he settles beside his spell-book. 

“Thank you so much Frumpkin, it's been a lot of fun.” 

He realises now, something he really should have understood earlier. It's simple, obvious even, and he feels like an utter fool for not recognising what had happened. Jester Lavorre, the prodigal princess of pranks, had been fucking with him this entire time. 

“You weren't really talking to my cat.” It wasn’t a question, the shit-eating grin plastered over Jester’s beautiful face had already told Caleb everything immediately. Like a spiritual lollipop her smile rips into his heart, and he can feel how completely crimson his face has become. Only Jester. 

“Yeah, totally. Absolutely, yeah… no. It didn’t... ha... it didn’t work.” 

She’s laughing as she tries to speak and the result, it just makes everything so much worse, so much worse because he’s already committed the look of sheer joy and glee on her face to his memory. That one was a keeper. Caleb spends the next few minutes watching his companion try and fail to catch her breath, wicked smile playing across her lips. Even whilst breathless Jester manages to take his away. 

“I had you going there, just for a moment Cayleb. You should see your face, it's so red you kinda look like my mom.” 

He’s glad she’s back to teasing. A playful Jester was much more welcome sight than a solemn Jester, even if she made his heart feel like giving out. He gifts her a small but sincere smile, his hands busy stroking the cat trying to climb his shoulder. 

“Well, not as pretty, obviously.” 

He considers the prank consolation for his comments about her weasel. It was all in good fun. 

“Danke Jester, that is quite the, uh, compliment. It is appreciated, even though I know it isn’t true.” 

Caleb watches the cleric roll her eyes so far back that he’s worried Jester has injured herself. She gives a huff in response, not bothering to give his comment any serious consideration as she rises to her feet. 

“Believe whatever you want Cayleb, I happen to think you actually are quite pretty, especially when you blush.” 

Its just Jester being Jester, playful banter. She couldn’t mean anything by it. The way she stops and stares at Caleb, takes the time to seriously consider him, seems at odds with his assessment. 

“Like, very pretty Cayleb. Very.” 

He has nothing to say to that. No self-depreciative joke nor dismissive remark. Jester pulls the still sitting wizard into an all too brief hug and heads towards the stairs, a collection of his research notes in hand. And his cat. How did she take his cat without him noticing? 

“You should totally talk to Cad about that heart thingy in the morning, he can probably ask the Wildmother about it. Got to be better than wasting a week trying hundreds of versions of the same spell, am I right? Night!” 

Jester climbs the steps, the sounds of her footsteps continuing even after she has disappeared from view. Caleb sits alone in the relative silence of early morning. 

Caleb returned to his makeshift work desk, suddenly less interested in his half-scrawled notes and arcane runes. After seven minutes and twenty-three seconds the flush still hadn't left his face. Somehow, against all laws of probability and accepted logic, Caleb had managed to fall even more uselessly in love with Jester. 

The heart could wait until the morning. It was the morning. Later, it could wait until later. His brain would need time to cool down and relax before it could continue with anything so tenuous and puzzling. In his sleep deprived state he could have sworn that Jester had matched his blush when hugging him. Impossible. He needed sleep.


End file.
